


Paint Your Heart On My Scars

by Katyakora



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyakora/pseuds/Katyakora
Summary: When Ray and Mick discovered they were soulmates, their relationship had a rather rocky beginning. But just as they seem to have things figured out, the Legends gain two new team members who complicate matters in a way no one anticipated.





	1. Prologue - When Mick found Ray

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, soulbonds and their soulmarks manifest on contact. Sometimes its on first contact, sometimes its contact during times of heightened emotion or stress, sometimes its contact during moments of empathy or shared understanding. No one can predict what triggers the soulbond. 
> 
>  
> 
> Ray’s face goes from banged up to perfectly fine in the space between the ship getting knocked into 2046 and them going out to look around, so I’m assuming they stayed on the ship for a bit checking damage and Ray got fixed up in the meantime.

_ Star City, 2046 _

Mick had always liked his scars, even considered them beautiful. But as he stared at his shoulders, helpfully projected on a screen for him by Gideon, Mick found himself utterly captivated. Swirling curving lines mapped the raised ridges of his burns, highlighting them with a deep indigo. They flowed in a thick band of colour along the top of his shoulders and the back of his neck, a brand to mark where he’d carried a barely conscious Ray just a few hours ago. Experimentally, Mick brushed his fingers against the mark and felt the tips tingle, his nerves alighting at the contact. Slowly, he let his palm fall, just resting it on the physical manifestation between his soul and another.

 

He had a soulmate. He, Mick Rory, arsonist, thug and thief, had a soulmate in Ray Palmer, of all people.

 

That was really the most surprising part. In Mick’s darkest moments, he had contemplated that he was too tainted, too broken to even have a soul, let alone a soulmate. But that didn’t mean that he’d never thought about it, never wondered or daydreamed in his lightest moments what kind of person he was destined for. His fantasies usually featured someone like him, someone wild and unapologetic, who reveled in the beauty of destruction. Or someone like Snart, a level-headed, meticulous planner to lead Mick to the best scores and to stay his hand when Mick became his own worst enemy. 

 

Raymond Palmer was none of those things. He was a creator, a genius, a goody-two-shoes nerd who believed in the good in humanity and was willing to die for it. Ray was a good person, pure and simple, and Mick couldn’t fathom how someone like him could possibly be his other half. 

 

And yet he’d felt it, had felt the connection form as he carried Ray through the gulag. It had felt like nothing he’d ever experienced; like he hadn’t noticed how he hadn’t fit inside his own skin his whole life until a calming pulse cascaded through his body, a rhythm that perfectly matched his own, and suddenly every part of him fit perfectly. His ears practically rang with Ray’s pulse as it beat in time to his own, their bodies in perfect harmony. If they hadn’t been in mortal danger at the time, Mick would have been overwhelmed by it.

 

A phantom touch brushed along the length of the mark, the barely-there sensation sending a shiver down Mick’s spine. The cause could only be Ray, running a hand down his soulmark, having finally noticed it. He’d been so out of it during their escape that Mick was fairly sure he hadn’t been aware they had bonded. Mick was grateful for this, Ray’s ignorance having given him a chance to hide away and examine his mark and his feelings about having a soulmate. Mick hated examining his feelings, and now he couldn’t help but wonder how Ray felt about this development. He doubted Ray ever thought he’d be bonded to criminal. Would he be disgusted? Angry? Would he expect Mick to drop everything for him, to change his ways simply for Ray’s sake? Mick didn’t want that. He was who he was, and if his soulmate couldn’t accept that, then maybe this whole soulmate thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

 

More phantom touches ran across the back of his shoulders, probing, testing. Irrationally, Mick slapped a hand over where he could feel the feather-light touch, as though he could swat it away.

 

New emotions flooded him. Awe, jubilation, nervousness, curiosity and fear all fought for attention over the overwhelming sense of rightness that came when they both touched their marks. Mick pulled his hand away as though bitten. He’d heard of this, how some bonded pairs could share emotions if they wished. He hadn’t expected to be one of the rare pairs, let alone to for it to be so intense. This was far more than he’d bargained for. He’d been able to get all those emotions from a second of contact, who knew what Ray had picked up on his side of the connection. Mick felt painfully vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden. He hastily pulled his shirt back on as though the layer of fabric could somehow cut their new connection. He could admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he was not prepared for this. He didn’t know how to be anyone’s soulmate, let alone the soulmate of a man who was his polar opposite.

 

It was almost a relief when Gideon called for the team to gather, the chance to go out and explore whatever time they’d been knocked into would be a welcome distraction. He purposely didn’t look at Ray when the group gathered, but he could feel the other man’s eyes on him. It was unnerving to be the subject of that lazer focus and Mick couldn’t help but feel like he was being evaluated. That set him on edge, a little voice in his mind telling him that he would inevitably be found lacking. He set about trying to rectify his bad mood by enjoying the fruits of the era, but even that ended sourly. And, inevitably, once the Waverider was once again roadworthy, Ray found the courage to approach him.

 

“They really seemed like your kind of people.”

 

“I don’t know who my people are anymore.”

 

Mick hadn’t meant for his words to be pointed, but they seemed to come out that way anyway. Once more he felt Ray study him and he could feel his own mindset shift towards the defensive. Until that moment, Ray’s proximity had been comforting, some part of him feeling utterly at home in his presence. Losing that sense of companionable safety was jarring, mostly because he hadn’t noticed it was there in the first place, and that just made things worse. Beside him, Ray cleared his throat.

 

“Look, I, uh, I think we should talk-”

 

“Of course you do,” Mick interrupted, his voice low and his tone flat. “You think this is gonna be all sunshine and rainbows and perfect happy endings.” He finally turned to look at Ray and saw all the hurt and sorrow he wasn’t even trying to hide. That cut deeper than expected and Mick almost stopped. Almost. “Do yourself a favour and find someone else. I’m no one’s happy ending.” With that, he walked away, stubbornly ignoring the way his vision blurred just a little.

 

He made a point of avoiding Ray after that. And then the Time Pirates came.


	2. When Ray found Mick

It had hurt at first, to be rejected out of hand by the one person who was supposed to complete him. When Ray had first seen the mark that ran the length of the right side of his torso, he had been ecstatic but nervous. Mick was nothing like what Ray had imagined his other half to be. They were opposites, natural antagonists, and yet Ray couldn’t help but see something beneath the thuggish exterior that drew him in. Mick was so much more complex than he’d pretended to be, and the more Ray thought about it, the more he believed that they could actually be good for each other, balancing each other out. So he’d gathered his courage and approached his soulmate, only to be immediately dismissed.

 

Every insecurity he carried had risen up to sting his throat like bile. He’d been on the verge of tears, watching his future walk away, when Mick’s last words sunk in. ‘I’m no one’s happy ending’ didn’t mean that Mick thought Ray wasn’t good enough. It meant that Mick had looked at himself and believed that he didn’t measure up. That was something Ray could relate to, and he was now determined to find a way to show Mick that he was worth it. He was prepared to be patient, to do his research and approach Mick slowly. After all, he had the time.

 

Or so he thought. But then they found the Acheron and Ray found himself on the opposite side to his soulmate. Everything happened so fast, and it was almost a mercy when one of the pirates managed to knock Ray out. Unfortunately, that meant he was still in the medbay getting patched up when the rest of the team decided what to do about Mick. None of them knew he was Ray’s soulmate, and thus no one thought to bother consulting him. They also did not expect Ray, upon hearing the news, to storm up to the bridge and deck Leonard.

 

Everyone stared at him in shock, even Leonard, who hadn’t even bothered to try and stand up after Ray’s blow sent him to the floor.

 

“How could you?” Ray demanded angrily. 

 

“I did what had to be done,” Leonard answered coldly. Ray’s eyes widened and he slipped a hand under his shirt so that his palm could rest on his mark. His skin tingled at the contact, the connection still there and he wanted to cry with relief. Mick was still alive. But something was wrong. Ray had felt the emotional connection only briefly before, but now it felt like static, like Mick was tapping his mark impossibly fast, every tiny flash of emotion nothing but pain, despair and rage. It made Ray feel sick.

 

“What did you do?” he snarled, looming over Leonard. Ray didn’t think he could ever remember being this angry, almost like some of Mick’s anger was bleeding into him. 

 

“He killed him,” Jax supplied, glaring darkly at Leonard. Ray shook his head, his eyes never leaving Leonard.

 

“No, he didn’t but he feels wrong. What did you do to him?” Ray demanded again. Leonard’s eyes narrowed, focusing intently on the hand Ray still had on his stomach.

 

“Ray, you’re not making any sense,” Kendra said gently, approaching Ray like he was a spooked horse. “Mick’s gone, Ray. After he betrayed us, the captain,” her tone turned icy as she shot Rip a dark look, “sent Leonard to take care of him.”

 

“He’s not dead. He can’t be,” Ray told her plainly. Kendra looked at him sadly and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“I know you two got close in Russia, but Ray you need to accept this.”

 

“If he’s dead, then why can I still feel him?” Ray snapped, his frustration and the mere thought of Mick dying leaving him short tempered. He raised his shirt to prove his point, the indigo swirls on his navel all the evidence necessary. “If he was dead, this would have turned white.”

 

“Oh shit, Rory was your soulmate?” Jax exclaimed, expressing the sentiment on behalf of the crew.

 

“Is,” Ray corrected defiantly. “He  _ is _ my soulmate and he’s in pain. So what the hell did you do with him?”

 

Leonard was staring up at him with an unreadable expression. Ray’s question seemed to shake him out of his daze, and he finally climbed to his feel.

 

“I left him on a remote island a hundred years before it’s discovered by humanity,” he admitted.

 

“But you said you killed him,” Stein said, earning a derisive look.

 

“I never actually said that. You were all happy enough to fill in the blanks for yourselves.”

 

“But something’s wrong,” Ray insisted, his hand still on his mark. “He doesn’t feel...right. We have to go back.”

 

“I’m afraid we have slightly more important matters to attend to at the moment-,” Rip began apologetically, but Ray cut him off.

 

“That’s crap! This whole mission is to save your soulmate and child, but you won’t take five minutes to go and save mine?”

 

“I did not mean to imply we wouldn’t go back for Mr Rory!” Rip assured him hastily. “I swear, as soon as our business here in 1958 is concluded, we will go and collect him. Hopefully he’ll have cooled down after a week or two on his own.”

 

Ray didn’t like that plan, but he reluctantly agreed. The ugly, sick feeling he got every time he touched his mark concerned him greatly, but of the others, only Kendra seemed to understand. Then again, aside from Rip, she was the only one who carried a white soulmark. 

 

Of course, their plans were derailed when Chronos attacked, stranding Sara and Kendra in the fifties, and Ray once again found himself facing down his soulmate, even if he didn’t know it at the time. All he knew was that the sick feeling he got from his soulmark was gone, and when Chronos had him in his sights, he didn’t fire. It was that thought that drove Ray as he made his way to the ship’s containment cell after they left the fifties behind.

 

Mick didn't even glance up at him when he entered. Ray refused to think of him as Chronos; as far as he was concerned they were separate people. The difference was clear to see as Ray took him in; the man dressed in the dark suit he’d worn under Chronos's armour was so far removed from the scruffy thief Ray knew.

 

“Congratulations. You held out longer than I expected. Guess you got more sense than I thought.”

 

Mick didn't look up as he spoke, his words monotonous where they would normally be mocking.

 

“I felt it, you know,” Ray said, choosing not to rise to Mick's jibe. “Every time I touched my mark, it was like I was feeling every time you touched yours but all at once. I felt your pain.” He leaned forward, resting his palm against the glass. Mick finally looked up at him, his face blank. 

 

“And what? Have a good cry over it?” Mick sneered, his eyes hard. “Wasn't enough to make you come back for me. Wasn't enough to give you the spine to stop Snart ditching me in the first place.”

 

“I had no idea they were going to do that!” Ray protested. “By the time I came to, they'd already done it! And I was coming back for you! I made Hunter swear that we would as soon as we were done, we would go back for you!”

 

Mick remained stoic, unmoved.

 

“Didn't you feel it?” Ray implored softly, “How worried I was?” He didn't move under Mick's intense scrutiny, watching as Mick's eyes softened a tiny fraction and for a moment he thought he'd gotten through to him. But then Mick's face shuttered back to its bored, blank state.

 

“I feel nothing,” he growled, going back to pointedly ignoring Ray’s presence. Ray sighed and stepped back from the glass. 

 

“I’m not giving up on you,” he vowed. 

 

Mick glanced up for just a moment, fond exasperation flashing across his face before it was schooled back to blankness. Mick didn't respond, but Ray walked away smiling. Their Mick, his Mick, was still there. Ray would have to be patient, just like he’d already planned. Yes, this was a bit of a setback, but he could happily put off wooing his soulmate in favour of helping him return to the man he’d been. Ray was determined be whatever Mick needed in order to help him.

 

It was slow going. Even after Leonard managed to get through to him and get him back on their side, Mick remained distant and inimical. He also actively avoided being alone with Ray and had ordered Gideon to specifically bar Ray from entering Mick’s room. Ray didn’t let these obstacles get in his way. He simply seized the opportunities he was given, most often trying to draw Mick into the thick of their missions, doing what he could to make Mick feel like a part of the team again. The more Mick got caught up in their missions, the more time he willingly spent around the team, and Ray could barely contain his pride and happiness as he watched Mick slowly return to the gruff, snarky troublemaker he’d been. His glib comments became less cutting and more ribbing, his glares lost their cold light, and he stopped walking out of any room Ray was in. When he opened up briefly and admitted it was thoughts of the team that helped him fight off the Time Master’s brainwashing the second time around, Ray felt real hope the future. Their future.

 

A future that, for a short time, he didn’t expect to see. He didn’t want to do it; it broke his heart to think he’d be abandoning Mick when he was still healing from his time as Chronos. But Rip had foreseen this exact situation, and the idea that it was fate leading him to sacrifice himself made it a little easier to accept. He had to do this, to save all of history, and he could only pray that Mick would forgive him in the next life. It never once occurred to him that Mick might reject the decision he’d made, forcefully and with the butt of his gun.

 

Ray woke in a panic. He ripped the medical cuff from his arm and attempted to hurl himself off the cot, intending to race out the door. The sight of Mick lying unconscious in the cot next to him stopped him short. Relief punched through him like a gunshot and he rushed to Mick’s side, frantically searching for injuries. Ray called out to Gideon, demanding to know what had happened, and what she told him left him equal parts elated and devastated. Just as Mick had taken Ray’s place, so had Snart taken his. The Oculus had been successfully destroyed. Ray took a step back from Mick, his mouth hanging open in horror. Leonard was dead, and Ray couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. He suddenly felt tainted, as though he didn’t have the right to be there with Mick after Leonard had died because of him. He fled the room with tears in his eyes, unaware of Mick regaining consciousness behind him.

 

Bearing witness to Mick’s silent grief when they all gathered on the bridge just made things worse. On the one hand, Ray felt he should keep his distance, shouldn’t burden Mick with his presence. But on the other hand, Mick was clearly grieving, and there was no one else on the ship who had any chance of helping him through that, contrary and closed-off as Mick was. So Ray squared his shoulders and put aside his guilt to help Mick. He did try to keep some distance though; tried to keep his actions the same as they would be if he were just reaching out to a friend. He didn’t want to push, and he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved anything more than the begrudging acknowledgement Mick usually gave him. He avoided touching his mark, not wanting to violate Mick’s boundaries even accidently.

 

It was Mick who decided that distance wasn’t what he wanted.

 

Ray was working on his suit alone in the cargo bay when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. It was technically quite late, so Ray was surprised anyone else was up at all. He was even more surprised when he turned and saw it was Mick taking a seat on the crate next to his bench. Mick had a beer bottle in his hands, and he didn’t look at Ray as he made himself comfortable.

 

“Uh, hey Mick,” Ray greeted him once he’d gotten over his surprise. “Just working on my suit. I didn’t think anyone else was up.”

 

“Can’t sleep,” Mick grunted, sipping his beer and still not looking at Ray. 

 

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re not getting a lot of sleep these days,” Ray hedged carefully. It had been hard to ignore the tired, hopeless look Mick had worn lately.

 

Now Mick did look at Ray, sending him a glare that clearly told him to drop it. Ray took the hint and went back to what he was doing, albeit with frequent glances in Mick’s direction. They sat together in silence for several long minutes.

 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Mick grumbled after Ray snuck yet another glance at him.

 

“Sorry,” Ray responded automatically. He paused, carefully weighing up his next move. “I’m just a little curious, I guess.” He swallowed, hesitating. “I know I’m not exactly your favourite person at the moment. Or ever, really.” His awkward, self-deprecating chuckle was greeted with a flat stare that Ray couldn’t decipher.

 

“....you want me to go,” Mick decided after a long moment, his frown deepening.

 

“No!” Ray blurted out, half rising out of his seat to stall him on instinct, despite Mick not having made any actual move to leave. “No, no don’t go. I just, this, this is nice, you being here, with me, and I was just wondering what brought it on. That’s all.”

 

“Huh. Nice,” Mick said slowly, as though he needed to make sense of Ray’s use of the word. “Never been anyone’s idea of ‘nice’ before.”

 

“Well, I’m probably a little biased,” Ray said without thought, freezing once the words had left his mouth. 

 

They didn’t talk about it. No one dared to bring up the bond they shared, and Ray had just come dangerously close. But Mick didn’t stalk off with a scowl the way that Ray feared he would. He just sat and stared at the bottle in his hands, looking almost contemplative. Hesitantly, Ray stepped away from his workbench and took a seat on the crate next to Mick, careful to keep some space between their bodies.

 

“You’re always there,” Mick snapped abruptly, scowling down at his beer bottle as though it had personally wronged him.

 

“I...am?” Ray agreed, a little bewildered by the statement.

 

“You don’t give up,” Mick accused, still not looking up. “So... thanks. For not giving up.”

 

Ray smiled broadly, expending valiant effort into not whooping with pride at Mick opening up this much. 

 

“Good, ‘cause I’ll never give up. You’re stuck with me,” Ray said playfully, bumping their shoulders.

 

“You should,” Mick countered darkly. “I ain’t worth it.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you on that,” Ray stated firmly but gently. “You’re always going to be worth it to me.”

 

Next to him, Mick sighed and shook his head. His posture dropped a little, allowing their shoulders to brush against each other. Ray was well aware that the movement was entirely deliberate, but refrained from commenting. He let his own shoulders drop, matching the contact and feeling inexplicably giddy with anticipation. For what, he didn’t really know.

 

“Really never gonna give up,” Mick muttered, seemingly more to himself than Ray. He took a deep breath and turned his head to meet Ray’s eyes. “Okay.”

 

“Okay…?”

 

Mick gave him a familiar look of annoyance at being forced to explain, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed an uncharacteristic nervousness.

 

“This whole ‘soulmate’ thing.” He looked away again, suddenly uncomfortable meeting Ray’s eye. “If you still wanna give it a shot, even after everything...okay.”

 

Ray lit up. There was no other way to describe the feeling that burst within his chest at Mick’s nervous words. His usually buzzing brain stalled, Mick’s words running through his mind in a loop that could have lasted a second or a century for all he knew. He must have been silent for too long, because eventually Mick’s eyes flicked back up to his, guarded and wary. The expectation of and resignation to rejection in them jolted Ray into action, and before he realised he was moving, Ray was pressing his lips to Mick’s. He felt Mick flinch, his instincts expecting a blow, stalling only once he realised what Ray was doing. 

 

Mick’s press back was hesitant, as though he was unsure of the protocol. Ray was patient, now that his own brain had caught up to proceedings, and didn’t demand more than the chaste expression of affection. Not that he needed to, because this was more than he had ever expected to get, and the reality of it was intense. It was common knowledge that soulmates were more sensitive to each other’s touch, and right now the feel of Mick’s dry, chapped lips was the softest, warmest and most electrifying sensation he’d ever experienced. He had to force himself to stop, to pull back just to check and make sure he hadn’t overstepped. Mick chased his lips as he pulled away, so they ended up nose to nose, both breathing heavily from the simple contact. Mick’s eyes were wide; honest and vulnerable and  _ hopeful _ in a way that Ray had never seen.

 

“Oh,” Mick breathed, sounding a little stunned.

 

“Yeah,” Ray agreed just as breathlessly, uncaring that he was grinning like a fool. Mick didn’t respond, he just gripped Ray’s neck and pulled him back in. Ray didn’t mind at all. His hands rose automatically, one resting on Mick’s side, the fabric of his shirt clenched between his fingers, the other curling around the curve of Mick’s neck to steady them both as the kiss deepened. Ray couldn’t see when his fingers brushed the swirl of indigo blue at the top of Mick’s spine, but he felt him gasp. Ray paused, wondering if he’d done something wrong, but then Mick’s hand slipped under his hand under Ray’s shirt, fingertips ghosting over Ray’s skin until they found the matching pattern of colour that made Ray’s breathing stutter. If their first kiss had been electrifying, then this was lightning.

 

And at the same time it was more than that; touching each other’s marks at the same time intensified everything with the sudden sharing of emotions. In addition to his own ecstatic joy, Ray could feel Mick’s wonder and disbelief, his anticipation and his hope. It was overwhelming to say the least, and both men pulled away gasping.

 

“That’s... different,” Mick commented after a long moment. Their hands, though no longer on their marks, were still on each other, the skin to skin contact a strange reassurance of reality.

 

“Gonna take some getting used to,” Ray agreed.

 

“‘Least we know the sex is gonna be fantastic,” Mick pointed out in a low rumble that sent pleasant shivers down Ray’s spine. 

 

“Can’t argue with that,” he admitted with a fond chuckle. They still sat nose to nose, so Ray let his head drop forward to rest their foreheads together. The move was gentle, affectionate, and he felt Mick stiffen under the touch. But he didn’t pull away.

 

“I’m...not gonna be good at this,” Mick warned him softly.

 

“Me either,” Ray responded. “We’re both in new territory here. We’ll just have to help each other.”

 

Mick took a deep, shuddering breath and wrapped one hand around Ray’s, running his thumb gently against the back of Ray’s knuckles.

 

“Okay,” he agreed simply.

 

In that moment, sitting there entwined with his soulmate, Ray didn’t think it was possible to be happier. He had everything he’d ever wanted; what more could he ask for?

 

_ Some time later, in 1942…. _

 

“I’m a scientist,” Ray found himself babbling, his eyes flicking back and forth between the nazi and the gun he had pointed at Amaya. “That exo-suit? I invented it. I can fix your little supply and demand problem. I’ll even improve it. Just please...don’t shoot her.”

 

“I hope you’re as smart as you say you are,” the Baron sneered, “for her sake.” But thankfully, he let the gun fall and strode off. 

 

“You know he’s gonna kill us both, even if you help him?” Amaya asked quietly.

 

“I have a plan.” Ray hoped he sounded reassuring.

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

Ray intended to respond, but it was in that moment that he noticed the strange sensation radiating from where his forearms were resting against Amaya’s. It rippled out through his whole body, filling him with warmth and vibrance. He felt like he’d been constricted his whole life but could now finally take a deep breath. He remembered the way Mick had described how it felt carrying him through the gulag, like everything just fit and for a few moments everything felt overwhelmingly right. This was it, that feeling he’d been too out of it to feel the first time, and as good as it was to finally experience it, a part of him was stunned. Most people considered themselves lucky to meet and bond with one soulmate in their lifetime. To have two was considered rare and a great blessing, and Ray couldn’t believe that he was this lucky. But in saying that, there was no guarantee that Amaya and Mick would also bond, and many a tragedy had been written about the potential problems with an uneven triad. 

  
Behind him, he heard a shocked gasp. Ray didn’t get to hear anything more of Amaya’s reaction to this revelation, because it was then that the Baron returned with equipment and demands. He wasn’t able to do anything more than clasp Amaya’s hand in comfort before he was dragged out of his chair.


	3. When Amaya Found Ray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amaya has some old fashioned views about soulmateship. Shocking.
> 
> Not entirely happy with chapter, but if I keep changing things I'll never update.

“I...must confess, you’re very different to who I imagined my destined to be,” Amaya admitted haltingly, her eyes casting down in an uncharacteristic show of shyness. She’d managed to finally catch Ray alone after their fateful mission, and she suspected he may have broken off from the group deliberately to give her the chance to talk to him if she wanted to. She appreciated that, being not at all inclined to share what should prove to be an auspicious moment between soulmates.

 

“Oh. Uh, sorry?” Ray responded awkwardly and she laughed sweetly at his uncertainty.

 

“Handsome time-travellers aren’t quite what springs to mind when a little girl begins to wonder about her soulmate,” she explained further. That made his smile return, and Amaya couldn’t help but notice that it was rather dazzling. And while her soulmate did not seem to be the wisest of men, he clearly possessed an incredible intellect and a sweet disposition. She could easily imagine the pair of them living out an idyllic life together.

 

“Really? Because a beautiful, badass superhero from the 1940’s was definitely on my list,” he quipped. She laughed again, feeling light and free in a way that she’d never experienced. She had finally found her soulmate and he was sweet and kind and funny and...was probably born well after her death. The idyllic future she had been imagining dimmed. He was a time-traveller, and no doubt would be going back to his own time.

 

“I suppose we need to make a choice now, don't we?” she broached, her heart hammering in her throat.

 

“We do?”

 

“Well, as you said, I’m from 1942.” She paused to wet her lips, gathering her nerve. “I’m not sure how this usually goes in 2017, but for me, when a girl finds her soulmate, wedding bells usually follow.” She watched as his eyes went wide, but she didn’t know him well enough to judge whether it was from panic or excitement. “Which would mean that either you would stay here or I would go with you.” She honestly didn’t know which option she prefered. On the one hand, if he stayed, they would remain in a world she knew, surrounded by her friends, but he would be isolated, living in a foreign era. If she went with him, she would leave behind all her friends and be living in a foreign era herself. One of them had to make a sacrifice, and a part of Amaya couldn’t deny that she was curious to see the future her soulmate hailed from.

 

“I can’t stay!” Ray blurted out, now definitely looking panicked. “And marriage, wow, definitely something I would love to revisit and negotiate at a later date, but not right now.”

 

“Why not?” Amaya asked before she could stop herself, a little hurt by his protests. "Do soulmates not still marry in your time?"

 

“No, they do, but I can't, because, oh jeez, I really should have said something earlier. The thing is, Amaya... I already have another soulmate,” he admitted with a grimace.

 

“Oh.” Amaya felt a little winded. “That is...unexpected.”

 

“Yeah, it was definitely a surprise when you and I bonded,” Ray admitted with an awkward chuckle. “Not that I’m not ecstatic, or anything, it’s just...complicated. I also haven’t had a chance to tell him about you yet.”

 

“I understand,” Amaya said despite the ugly spike of jealousy she was trying to ignore. “Then perhaps it would be best if I stayed here?”

 

“What?” he exclaimed. “Oh, I didn’t mean that you and I, we could never be, or anything like that-”

 

“Ray,” she interrupted, stopping his panicked babbling with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know. And I actually have someone as well. Not a soulmate, but he is dear to me. I meant that maybe it would be best for me to stay and think about what I want-,” not to mention break the news to Rex, “-while you go and discuss us with your soulmate. You’re a time traveller, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again in no time at all.”

 

Ray smiled at her in great relief.

 

“Of course, that makes perfect sense. Thank you, Amaya, for being so understanding.”

 

“You’re welcome.” She turned her head as a noise caught her attention. “It's sounds like the others are ready to go. I’ll see you soon?” she asked hopefully.

 

“I swear it’ll feel like no time at all,” Ray assured her warmly, pulling her into a heartfelt hug that she gladly returned. She bid him farewell with a soft kiss to one cheek, surprised by the warmth that bloomed in her lips as they brushed his cheekbone.

 

Amaya left the ship feeling giddy and hopeful. Periodically, she would roll up a sleeve just to stare in wonder at the warm yellow stripes that cut across her forearms, almost like a tiger in reverse. She didn’t know Ray well, and his team could barely be described as functional on a good day, but he seemed like a good man; honest and kind, selfless to a fault with a strong sense of justice. He seemed like a good match for her and she was looking forward to seeing him again. It would be painful to tell Rex that she’d found her soulmate, but she knew that he’d be happy for her, despite his opinion of the legends. She went straight to him upon her return, hoping to get past any unpleasantness quickly. But instead she found him bleeding out on the floor of their headquarters, struggling through his last breaths. Rex died in her arms, his final act to condemn his murderer; a time-traveller.

 

Amaya saw red.

 

She stalked back to the Waverider, slipping on board just before the strange ship lifted off. Amaya made her way through the ship, systematically knocking out the crew while avoiding coming into contact with her soulmate. Finally, she found her quarry rifling through the kitchen. She managed to take him by surprise, but he proved to be more cunning than anticipated and gave her a fight. Amaya would have won, prepared as she was to make the killing blow, when a cry stayed her hand.

 

“Stop!” Ray shouted from the doorway, one hand stretched out in front of him, as though through will alone he could breach the distance between them to physically stop her. “Please don’t kill my soulmate!”

 

Amaya’s brow furrowed for half a second before her stomach dropped in realisation.

 

“ _He’s_ your other soulmate?” she demanded incredulously, still kneeling over Mick with her blade raised.

 

“Other?” Mick muttered, largely confused.

 

“Umm…”

 

Ray didn’t get a chance to fumble through whatever he’d been about to say, because at that point Nate entered the room, inexplicable wearing nothing but metal skin, to snatch the knife from Amaya before she could react and swiftly knocked her out.

 

Amaya came to alone in a glass cell, the voice of the one they called Gideon cheerfully announcing that the crew had been informed that she was awake. Sara arrived not long afterward, first to compliment her on managing to stow away, and then demanding an explanation. After Amaya gave it, Sara assured her that there was no way Mick could have been the one to kill Rex, and a part of Amaya was utterly relieved to hear it. The idea that someone who was a part of her soulmate could have been responsible for Rex’s death had left her feeling sick, and Sara’s reassurances were a welcome balm. It still left the question of who had killed Rex, and Amaya was no less committed to finding them. Ray may be her soulmate, but she had still loved Rex deeply, and it was her grief that drove her to stay and join their mission.

 

Ray came to see Amaya in her newly assigned quarters that first night on board. Amaya noticed him arrive, but didn’t look up from where she sat cross-legged staring at nothing.

 

“Hey,” he called softly, knocking on the doorframe, “can I come in?”

 

Amaya jerked her head in invitation, but didn’t move from her spot on the bed. Ray stepped into the room and took a seat next to her.

 

“Sara explained the situation to the rest of us,” he told her. “After what she told us about Rex, no one really blames you for your, uh, rampage.”

 

“I’m not going to stop,” Amaya stated bluntly. “I  will  bring Rex’s killer to justice.” She turned her head to finally meet Ray’s warm brown eyes, her expression apologetic. “He may not have been my soulmate, but I loved him. We had even talked about leaving the JSA together and getting married,” she admitted. To her surprise, Ray didn’t seem at all hurt by her confession. Instead, he nodded knowingly.

 

“I understand, I really do,” he assured her. He paused, taking a deep breath. “I had a fiance once, y’know? Long before I met you or Mick. Her name was Anna and I didn’t care that we weren't soulmates because I loved her so much.”

 

“What happened to her?” Amaya asked, her curiousity piqued.

 

“She was killed. Right in front of me,” Ray confided heavily. Amaya didn’t even try to stop the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and then suddenly she was just…” he trailed off, his voice thick with pain from a wound never forgotten.

 

“...gone.” Amaya finished for him, her eyes heavy with moisture as Ray’s story resonated with her own fresh grief. “Does it ever get easier?” she whispered hopelessly. Ray sighed.

 

“Easier isn’t the right word. You learn to live with it.” He leaned into the hand on his shoulder. “It helps when you have someone to lean on.”

 

Amaya hesitated for barely a moment before accepting the veiled invitation. She slumped against his side, exhausted from her emotional day, and felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders. Ray supported her gently, with only murmured words meant to soothe as she finally let herself cry out her grief. Amaya wasn’t sure if it was their soulbond or just a property of Ray himself, but she had never felt so safe and cared for as she did curled up in Ray’s arms.

 

Ray respected her mourning and made it clear he was available with a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed. It helped that he understood what she was going through, and the early days of their bond were forged in the shadow of their shared losses. They didn't rush into anything, the both of them more inclined to let their relationship grow slowly. Physically, their intimacy hadn't progressed beyond casual and comforting touch and heartfelt kisses, but emotionally, they poured their hearts out to each other. Amaya began to feel like she knew Ray better than she had ever known anyone else, and the only thing he wouldn't happily talk to her about was his problems with Mick. He preferred to vent to Nate about that during their sparring sessions, Nate being the most neutral member of their team on the subject.

 

Because the early days of Ray and Amaya's bond were also marred by the distinctive frostiness between Amaya and Mick.

 

It was plain for all to see that Mick was hardly thrilled at the prospect of sharing Ray. To his credit, he never took that out on Amaya, but the unfortunate situation did little to endear her to him. Additionally, Amaya made no secret of her poor opinion of his character, and as a result any room they occupied together crackled with tension. Poor Ray was stuck right in the middle, doing what he could to share his attention between them without putting one above the other, and it was easy to see the strain the situation was putting on him.

 

It was Ray’s pleas for Amaya to at least attempt to give Mick a chance that led to her begrudgingly interacting with him at all. In Japan, Mick proved that he wasn’t as unreliable as she’d thought, and she reluctantly admitted to Ray that perhaps there was more to him than she’d thought. But she didn’t really understand him and begin to connect with him until their fateful mission to the Old West.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ray is a fucking gentleman. Shocking.


	4. When Mick Found Nate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Mick's canonical suicidal tendencies and generally bad mental health. This gonna get heavy.

In a rare moment of focused empathy, Mick thought about how this must feel for Amaya. After all, Mick at least got to have Ray to himself for a while before learning that he was expected to share. Amaya didn't even get a whole day before discovering that her soulmate already belonged to somebody else. If Mick had felt a little cheated at the news then he couldn't imagine what Amaya must feel. In all fairness, she seemed to be taking things better than Mick would have; she was at least making an effort to be cordial and get to know her soulmate’s other soulmate, even if her tone was perpetually unimpressed. The ugly part of Mick insisted that the difference between them was so glaring that Ray would eventually decide that Amaya was all that he needed. Rationally, he knew that was ridiculous, that Ray was far too big-hearted for that to ever happen, but it was a fear that he couldn't seem to shake.

 

It was that fear that fueled his drinking and carousing, dredging up all the self-destructive behaviour that Ray had put so much care and effort into helping Mick contain. It was that fear that stretched his grin when the fight turned from fun to deadly, because if Ray had somebody else then what did it matter what happened to Mick? It was that fear that had him stepping out to face Turnbull's gun, heedless of his own safety, nor anyone else's.

 

To Mick, it seemed like Nate stepped out of nowhere, his silver skin shining brighter than neon to stop the bullet. But then the bullet stopped him, and time slowed down as Nate staggered back into Mick's arms, perplexed surprise on his handsome face. Mick’s world narrowed down to the blood blooming around the hole in Nate's waistcoat, his arms instinctively coming up to support the wounded historian. The sight of Nate's blood sent an icy spike through Mick’s gut, and even the oddly familiar pulse thrumming through his chest couldn't distract him from the frozen claws of fear. He was barely aware of scooping Nate up into his arms and racing for the ship, uncaring of the situation he was leaving behind.

 

It was only when Nate was safely in Gideon's capable metaphorical hands that Mick finally thought about what had felt so familiar earlier. His suspicion was quickly confirmed when Gideon's laser cut away Nate's shirt to cauterise the wound. Peeking out under his arm along the curve of his ribs was the tip of a soulmark, vibrant flecks of crimson flaring and settling as it finishes manifesting.

 

Mick tugged off his scarf and opened his shirt to witness the top of his own mark manifesting over his sternum, the tip growing until it nestled in the low dip of his collarbone.

 

“Oh.”

 

The simple exclamation was the only thing that could have drawn his eyes up in that moment. Mick met Nate's eyes, stunned by the awe he saw in them. The smile that spread across the injured man’s face was just as surprising, radiating joy despite the way the pain tightened his eyes.

 

Just then, Sara and Ray rushed in, demanding to know Nate’s status. Mick barely heard Gideon's answer, mesmerised as he was by Ray’s gaze zeroing in on the red mark on his chest.

 

“Omigod, Mick! Are you okay? Did the bullet go all the way through?” Ray demanded, roughly pulling Mick’s shirt open further, searching for evidence of a wound. Mick stilled his hands by getting a grip on his wrists.

 

“No, it didn’t,” he assured him firmly. By then, the words were unnecessary because Ray could clearly see the arrangement of red flecks that now spread across Mick’s pecs. He looked from the mark back up to Mick’s face, his eyes wide, before turning them to Nate, who had been mercifully knocked out by Gideon’s painkillers. Sara was also staring at them in disbelief, along with Amaya, who stood in the door.

 

“Seriously?” Sara finally broke the stunned silence. “You guys are like a soap opera.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room, feeling a little claustrophobic. He ignored the sounds he heard in his wake, well aware that Ray would follow. He wasn’t disappointed, Ray’s heavy footfalls echoing down the corridor as he jogged to catch up.

 

“Mick! Honey, come on, talk to to me!”

 

Mick stopped to level him with a scowl.

 

“Told you not to call me that,” he growled.

 

“Actually, you told me not to call you that in public,” Ray corrected, slowing as he caught up to Mick. “And it got you to stop, didn’t it?” His smug smile turned serious. “Look, Mick, about Nate-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“I know, but I think you should. The last time this happened, you didn’t exactly take it well,” Ray stated delicately. “And I’ve been where you are right now. I know how it feels.”

 

“Look, I’m not gonna make Pretty jump through a bunch of hoops, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Mick conceded gruffly. “I’ll even tell him to thank you for doing it first.”

 

“Then why are you running from him?”

 

“You think I like knowin’ I almost got one o’ my soulmates killed?” Mick snapped angrily. “You think I wanna see him lying there covered in blood from a bullet that-”

 

“Mick, that wasn’t your fault!” They were shouting at each other now, right in the middle of the hallway, neither caring who heard.

 

“He took it for me! How is that not my fault?”

 

“Mick, you didn’t ask to get shot at!”

 

“Not in words but I might as well have!”

 

“What…” Ray froze, his eyes widening as the full implication of Mick's words hit him. “No. No, no, please Mick, don't, you can't-”

 

Ray’s sudden panic hit Mick like a bucket of ice water. There were a lot of things Mick could ignore, but Ray panicking wasn't one of them. He reached out to steady Ray and he stumbled into Mick's arms, his whole body trembling as he clung to Mick. Watching Ray break down at the mere suggestion of Mick getting himself killed made Mick wonder how he could ever have thought Ray could be happier without him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into Ray’s hair, hoping he could hear him over his own ragged breaths. “I’m sorry. I was being an idiot.”

 

“Is...is it because I bonded with-” Ray tried to ask, stumbling around the words through his erratic breathing.

 

“It’s ‘cause I’m an idiot,” Mick interrupted in a harsh growl, refusing to let Ray lay the blame on himself. “Not your fault. Or hers. Just me.”

 

Ray pulled his head from where it had been tucked in the curve of Mick’s neck, his usually warm brown eyes now wet and red and distraught.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- you never said anything, I thought things were getting better-”

 

“They are,” Mick assured him firmly, before re-evaluating. “They will.”

 

“Promise me,” Ray demanded in a quiet, broken voice, his eyes searching Mick’s face. “Promise me, that when things get bad, you’ll talk to me, or talk to someone, anything, I just...I can’t lose you. Please.”

 

“I promise, Haircut.” Mick took a deep, shuddering breath of his own, a lifetime of conditioned distaste for emotional vulnerability warring with his need to reassure the first person he’d ever let himself love. “I forgot...I’m not alone anymore. Won’t happen again.”

 

Ray stayed in the reassuring embrace of Mick’s arms for a long while after that, the both of them needing the contact to reaffirm their connection. Neither man was aware of Amaya, leaning against the wall just around the corner, a tear running down her cheek.

 

Mick suspected that Amaya might have heard something when she inexplicably came to his room later, offering not her usual cold judgement but common ground. Mick, already feeling vulnerable from his confrontation with Ray, tried to play it off, to push her away. But she persisted, unswayed by his attitude, and it was Mick who had to walk away to put some distance between them. He didn't like that a part of him cared about her opinion, had wanted to listen to her. Mick was already twisted up enough being bound to Ray and Nate, he was too overwhelmed to try and navigate whatever Amaya's intentions had been. So he withdrew until they were called back into the mission, he and Amaya setting off to blow up Turnbull's mine.

 

A promise is easy to make, but much harder to keep. And with everything that had happened lately, Mick was hardly calm or focused. A single moment, no matter how sincere, couldn't erase all the ugly thoughts and shameful insecurities that had been carrying Mick down this path. And fire could always be relied on the clear away the clutter that seemed to gather in his head like flotsam muddying his thoughts. So when he lit the fuse and watched the flame slowly eat it away on its journey to the dynamite, for just a moment, Mick forgot. He forgot every worry and every burden, every joy and every hope. All that existed was the flame and himself.

 

For just a moment, he let himself be the same man who first stepped onboard the Waverider all those months ago.

 

“Mick. You made a promise. Honour it.”

 

Amaya's gentle yet firm voice pulled Mick back into himself. The fuse still burned, and the man who had cared for nothing and no one but himself burned away with it as Mick turned to aid Amaya against the goons trying to stop them. To give up the identity he had once worn like a favourite coat was a terrifying thing, and Mick did the only thing he knew how to do with fear; he turned it into rage. He lost himself in it, beating Turnbull's men bloody, and it was only Amaya's forceful coaxing that managed to drag him away in time to escape the explosion.

 

Afterwards, when everyone had returned safely to the ship, Amaya once again sought Mick out in his quarters. Once again, she came not to judge, but to offer understanding from her own unique point of view. And Mick remembered that firm, gentle voice reminding him that he had a reason to keep fighting. The voice of reason to hold him back when he became his own worst enemy. It seemed his soulmate had given him that after all, just not how he had expected.


	5. When Nate Found Mick

“Hey, uh, Ray?” Nate asked hesitantly as he, Ray and Jax saddled up their horses in preparation to intercept Turnbull’s train.

 

“Yeah, Buddy?” Ray answered absently from the other side of his horse.

 

“I don’t know if he said anything earlier, but, um, before, when I got shot, Mick and I, we, uh-”

 

“You can relax, Nate, I know you guys bonded,” Ray interrupted him gently. “And don’t worry, I don’t have a problem with it.”

 

“Awesome, because I know how awkward things have been between Mick and Amaya since you guys bonded and I really didn’t want that to happen between us,” Nate said with great relief.

 

“I actually think it’s a good thing,” Ray reassured him. “You’re right, things have been different since I bonded with Amaya, and I know,” he sighed heavily, “that Mick’s been feeling a little, well, abandoned, I guess.” He fixed Nate with a bright smile. “Knowing he’s got someone else in his corner is really gonna help him.”

 

“Yeah,” Nate agreed, nodding along, checking the tack on his horse to make sure it was all secure. “Has he, uh, has he talked to you about it? Bonding with me?” he asked, aiming for casual and well aware he missed the mark.

 

“It came up, although we got a little sidetracked,” Ray answered, wincing at the memory. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Mick.”

 

“What was it like when you two first bonded?” Nate asked. Behind him, Jax snorted, forcefully reminding Nate of his presence.

 

“Yeah, things with me and Mick started out pretty complicated,” Ray agreed with a grimace as the trio mounted their horses and started to ride out. 

 

“Complicated is one word for it,” Jax muttered under his breath.

 

Nate frowned, wondering what exactly the history was there. He’d borne witness to Mick and Ray’s reunion when they rescued Ray from the cretaceous period, and they’d hugged each other with so much force Nate had been slightly concerned one of them might walk away with a cracked rib or two. He’d had to pretend he was super interested in the smouldering dinosaur carcass, despite his upset stomach, to give the pair some semblance of privacy as they murmured softly to each other, trying not to intrude on the moment. At the time he had felt a pang of jealousy at the clear depth of their feelings, bondless as he had been at the time. And now here he was, bonded to one of them and becoming yet another complication in what had clearly been a rocky relationship.

 

“We didn’t really start a relationship until a few months after we first bonded,” Ray was elaborating. “The situation we ended up in wasn’t...ideal, and Mick had some stuff to work through, but we got there in the end. He’s a lot more open to the whole ‘soulmate’ thing this time around though, you two will be fine.”

 

“Yeah,” Nate said, nodding but still feeling a twist of nerves in his gut. 

 

Which was somewhat understandable. Bonding with one’s soulmate was one of the most momentous occasions in a person’s life, and Nate had missed most of the initial bond due to pain and unconsciousness. Having to actually approach his soulmate after the bonding seemed wrong, like Nate had already messed up somehow. And Mick wasn’t exactly the most approachable person to begin with. The whole situation somehow reminded him of being a teenager again, trying to gather up the nerve to ask out his crush. 

 

That was exactly what it felt like when he sought Mick out after their mission was done. He was a little thrown to see Amaya standing in Mick's room with him, the pair casually sharing a beer in the glow of Mick's lighter. Nate took a moment to really look at Mick. He was ruggedly handsome, the harsh life he’d led not weighing down the cracks in his skin but fortifying his scars. His strength was understated, easy to forget until it was unleashed in the torrent of his rage. The slouch of his shoulders suggested not a care in the world, and yet Nate had seen him clutch Ray and kiss him as though the world would end if he waited a second longer. He was rough and simple, honed and complicated, and Nate found himself possessed by the urge to study him the way he studied revered ancient kings.

 

Amaya caught sight of Nate standing awkwardly in the doorway and shot him an encouraging smile.

 

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” she said tactfully, making her way towards the door. She paused to give Nate's shoulder a friend pat on the shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispered to him sincerely, a sentiment that Nate appreciated. 

 

Nate refocused on Mick to find him watching him expectantly, his previously lit lighter now being idly flicked open and closed in one hand.

 

“Hi,” Nate said, wincing at how awkward he sounded. He took a couple of steps further into the room, noting the way Mick watched his movements. “I'm fine, if you were wondering,” he informed him hastily, “Gideon got me all patched up.”

 

“Yeah, and then you decided to throw yourself at a train,” Mick responded dryly.

 

“You heard about that?” Nate couldn't help but ask, still a little giddy at the achievement. “It was so cool! I mean, I think I might've pulled a muscle or two but it was still freakin’ awesome!”

 

“An awesome way to get yourself killed.”

 

Mick’s less than impressed response washed away Nate’s jubilation like an icy flood, leaving only the harsh reality of the last day.

 

“Guess that's a talent we have in common,” Nate responded to Mick's dark comment evenly. Mick scowled at him.

 

“You’ve been talking to Haircut,” he accused.

 

“Yeah. But he didn't have to say anything because I'm kind of not totally blind,” Nate answered dryly, some deep seed of anger he hadn't even been aware of blooming to life within him. “I saw what you did, Mick. We both know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stood in front of that bullet.”

 

Mick looked away, his jaw tight, refusing to meet Nate's eyes. Nate swallowed and soldiered on.

 

“Look, I know things haven't exactly been easy for you. And I know that this,” he gestured vaguely between them, “probably hasn't made them any easier. And I want to see where this bond takes us.” He took another step closer. “But I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you need time, or space, I can give you that. But when you're ready,” Nate laid on the charm, “I think we could make history together.”

 

A beat of silence followed his words, broken by Mick snorting incredulously.

 

“That line ever actually work?” he asked, still chortling. Nate was okay taking the hit to his ego since he’d finally gotten Mick to crack a smile.

 

“I'll have you know that has worked plenty of times, okay,  _ plenty.” _

 

“Look, Pretty,” Mick began, leaning forward in his seat and clearly deciding to put Nate out of his misery, “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Haircut; I'm no one's happy ending. Haircut puts up with me because he's got the patience of a saint and doesn't know how not to love people. You wanna go find somebody else who won't make your life hard, that's fine by me. But if you do still wanna give it a shot…” Mick paused, finally showing a little nerves as he swallowed, trying to hide the movement in a shrug. “I can't promise I'll be any good at all the mushy crap, but I can promise the sex’ll be fantastic.”

 

“Really?” Nate couldn’t help but question. “I mean, I love the confidence, but that’s a helluva thing to promise.”

 

Mick smirked, the look in his eyes making Nate’s throat go dry.

 

“Haircut didn’t mention that part?” Mick guessed. Nate didn’t get a chance to answer, because Mick abruptly got to his feet. “Lemme show ya.”

 

Nate wasn’t entirely surprised when Mick hooked a hand around his neck and dragged him in for a kiss. He was entirely surprised by the intensity of it, the way the heat of Mick’s skin felt like a brand against Nate’s, the pair melding together as Nate’s nerves lit up at his soulmate’s touch. Nate suddenly felt like he understood exactly what Mick meant, but then Mick slipped a hand under Nate’s shirt and up his back until his broad palm was pressed flat against his soulmark. Oh. Nate mewled into Mick’s mouth and felt the other man’s smirk as he scrambled to get his hands under Mick’s shirt, to find his mark and share their connection in a way Nate had only ever read about. Mick’s breath hitched when Nate’s fingers found his mark, and suddenly Nate was aware of Mick’s relief, nostalgia and fond amusement. He gasped in surprise and pulled back, his eyes wide. Now Mick was definitely laughing at him, chuckling at the dumbfounded look on Nate’s face.

 

“We can-, you knew-, how did you-, I can  _ feel _ you!” Nate stammered out.

 

Mick shrugged. “Happened with Haircut, why not you?”

 

“Yeah, but you and Ray, you’re like-”

 

“Soulmates?”

 

“I know, I know, but come on. Have you ever heard of a mixed soulbond that could share feelings?”

 

Mick frowned, thinking. “Huh. Never thought about it.”

 

“I’m actually pretty sure it’s unheard of. Guess that just means we have a pretty strong bond, huh?” Nate commented, feeling a little giddy. 

 

“You’re gonna get all mushy on me, aren't you?” Mick grumbled with a long suffering sigh. 

 

“I'm willing to postpone the mushiness for something more fun,” Nate offered suggestively. “You did make me a promise, after all.”

 

Mick smirked wickedly.

 

“Deal.”


	6. When Amaya Found Mick

With the addition of Nate to their strange little chain of soulmates, Amaya would have expected things to become even more complicated. Yet, to the surprise of just about everyone, his presence actually seemed to balance them. Nate’s unthinking warmth and enthusiasm tempered Mick’s cynical attitude and fueled Ray’s optimism. Nate and Ray, already firm friends, were overjoyed to be formally soulsiblings, an unbonded pair who shared a soulmate. Amaya felt less as though her arrival had been a burden on Ray, and Ray no longer felt guilty about spending time with Amaya when he knew Mick was spending time with Nate. 

 

Stepping back to allow Mick to form a relationship with Nate allowed Ray to focus on his relationship with Amaya. And Amaya felt like she was finally ready to get closer. She still loved and mourned Rex, was still determined to avenge him, but she also knew he would have wanted her to be happy and embrace her destiny. So she did.

 

Amaya would never tire of waking up next to Ray. She loved seeing his dark hair mussed and sticking out at all angles, and the way his eyelids flickered as though his immense mind still ran a mile a minute even in sleep. She loved the feel of his skin against hers, the barely tangible hum of their bond alighting their nerves wherever they touched. She loved tracing her fingers along his marks, both the vibrant yellow of her soul and the dark indigo of Mick’s. Where her mark on Ray felt like a beacon, her fingers tingling as they brushed the thick bands of colour, Mick’s mark was always slightly warmer than the skin around it, rough where some of the newly developed pigment had raised the cells, giving it a texture reminiscent of the man himself. It was oddly grounding, this physical reminder that Amaya wasn’t alone in loving this strange, brilliant man who cared so much.

 

Now that she knew Ray better, she wasn’t at all surprised that he had two soulmates; Ray’s heart was far too big to ever love just one person. Amaya had no doubt that she and Mick would share Ray’s heart with many in the years to come, and she found that she was okay with that. There was something inherently peaceful about loving someone and knowing you were loved equally in return. Amaya wasn’t entirely sure when she had fallen in love with Ray, had even initially worried that she might not, despite their bond. After all, not all bonds were romantic. But somewhere between Ray holding her as she cried out her grief and her comforting him after his confrontation with Mick in the hallway, Amaya had fallen completely in love with him. He could hold an entire conversation using words she didn’t understand and sometimes he didn’t think things through before he acted, but he was also the sweetest, kindest and most forgiving person she had ever met.

 

“Hmmph, that tickles.”

 

Ray’s sleep-husky voice broke through her contemplation, and Amaya stopped running her fingers over his skin to lean over and press a kiss to his lips. 

 

“Good morning,” she murmured, both of them smiling sweetly at each other.

 

“Morning,” Ray answered, his strong arms enveloping her, shifting her until she lay comfortably on his chest. “I was just dreaming about you.”

 

“A good dream, I hope?”

 

He hummed noncommittally. “Something like that.”

 

Amaya frowned down at him. “Ray? Is everything okay?”

 

Ray sighed, his arms tightening around her as he hid his face in her hair.

 

“I was just dreaming about the Dominators’ illusion, that's all.”

 

Amaya's frown deepened. Ray had kept uncharacteristically quiet about much of what had happened on the Dominators’ ship. She had believed he would talk about it with her in time, but now it seemed like the experience had affected him more than she’d thought.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered, hoping he would accept. To her disappointment, she felt Ray shake his head.

 

“No, it's not important. It was just...an impossible dream.”

 

Amaya let the subject drop, but resolved to speak to Sara about it later. If anyone could tell her whether or not her worries were founded, it would be Sara. 

 

It was just bad luck that Sara got taken on their very next mission. But perhaps it was less luck and more fate, because it was the temporary loss of their leader that led to Mick taking charge, and Amaya, Mick, Ray and Nate working together as a unit for the first time.

 

There was something inexplicably exhilarating about playing the bad guy. The sound of Mick's rumbling bark next to her, ringing with authority as opposed to his usual indifference, added to the strange, heady feeling. Amaya felt like she was living out some kind of fantasy that she hadn't known she had. Ray and Nate backing them up added another undercurrent to the mission, a sense of rightness and connection as they worked seamlessly to rescue their teammates. 

 

She was riding that strange high when she picked up the bottle of moonshine, a wayward thought pointing out that Mick might appreciate it. It seemed like a fitting peace offering for her soulsibling, especially now that she finally felt like she understood him. That sense of kinship only intensified after Rex’s killer attacked the ship, and Mick did everything in his power to help her get the justice she sought, even putting himself at risk in the process. Ray had been right all along; there was so much more to Mick Rory than met the eye.

 

She found him in the kitchen, predictably raiding Nate and Jax’s stashes of non-sugarfree snacks.

 

“I thought I’d find you in here,” she said by way of greeting. He glanced up at her, but continued riffling through the collected snacks. She crossed the room to place her burden down on the counter before gripping his shoulder to pull him down and get a better look at his injured head. “That speedster hit you pretty hard, huh?” she sympathised, taking in the size and colour of the bruise on his head.

 

“I got a thick head,” he shrugged it off, seemingly a little surprised by her concern. “What’s that?” he changed the subject, knocking his knuckles on the box she’d brought with her, much to her delight.

 

“A little present,” she answered, sliding the box closer to him, “for keeping me alive...and for helping me almost get Rex’s killer.” 

 

Mick stalled, looking at her but not in the eye, as though he was trying to puzzle out any possible hidden agenda she may have behind the gesture, but coming up blank. 

 

“Open it,” she prompted. He did so, pulling out the sealed glass bottle. “I lifted it back at Capone’s warehouse,” she informed him, feeling a swell of unexpected pride that only grew when he turned his delighted gaze on her.

 

“You stole this?” he asked, and a few weeks ago Amaya would have been appalled at herself over how happy she was to hear that she’d impressed him. Now though, she just smiled warmly at him.

 

“You were right.” She met his eyes, unashamed to admit she had been wrong about him. “The bad guys really do have more fun.” She gripped his shoulder once more and leaned up, pressing her lips to his cheek in a chaste gesture. “Not that you’re a bad guy,” she couldn’t resist adding with a wink.

 

She might have walked away then, if she hadn’t felt it. A line of heat ran from her left knee up to the top of her hip, the parts of her still pressed against Mick’s side from where she’d leaned over to kiss him. They both stared in shock as the strange yet familiar sensation cascaded over them, their hearts stuttering as their beats lined up. They inhaled sharply in perfect time, their bodies in sync as their souls crossed the bridge between them and recognised each other. Amaya was grateful she still had a hand on his shoulder, steadying her as the overwhelming rush of rightness and belonging threatened the stability of her knees. 

 

A second soulmate. Amaya didn’t know what to make of this development. She had never even contemplated that she might be one of those blessed with more than one soulmate, and now she found herself bonded to a man so far outside her sphere that it was only after weeks of living in close proximity that she was starting to feel like she might understand him. Sharing a piece of her soul with earnest, loving Ray had made sense. That Mick shared a part of her too was at once wholly terrifying and strangely comforting. It was terrifying because of just how much she had liked playing the bad guy, letting the animal loose, with Mick just as wild at her side to egg her on. He represented every part of her that scared her, that she struggled to keep at bay when battle raged and her blood was up. But that comforted her too, because she had never known a truly kindred spirit. Ray might share her sense of morality and justice, but he would never understand how it felt to try and apply that to something that knew only how to kill or be killed. Mick knew how it felt to fight instinct, to live with a mind that wasn’t wholly his to control. 

 

They had locked eyes the moment they both felt it, and Amaya felt like he could see into her soul, could see every part of her that she had hidden, everything that hadn’t fit the mold of a model JSA member. She felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way that she had never experienced. 

 

They stepped back from each other at the same time, both overwhelmed and needing a break from the contact. Mick’s wide eyes stared back at her, just as shocked as she was. Idly, she wondered how she had never noticed that his eyes were grey. He tried to school his features back into his usual casual apathy, but Amaya wasn’t fooled. Because for just a moment, he had looked as vulnerable as she felt.

 

“Never bonded with someone who was conscious before.”

 

The utter absurdity of the absolutely true statement cut some of the tension that had sprung between them. They both still stood wary, eyeing each other like animals about to spook, but Amaya couldn’t help the incredulous crinkle between her brows at his words.

 

“It’s nice to be the first at something, I suppose?” she responded, at a loss as to what else to say. 

 

A phantom sensation brushed over the mark on her forearms, and across from her Mick raised his right hand to the nape of his neck, frowning. Amaya ran a thumb over her forearm, following the phantom touch, and immediately felt Ray’s confusion tinged with worry.

 

“Did he...do you think he felt that?” Amaya asked.

 

“Think he might’ve,” Mick guessed, frowning as he rubbed his neck unconsciously. “That’s weird, right?”

 

“I don’t think so? Mixed bonds aren’t exactly common where I’m from.” 

 

Curiousity got the better of her and Amaya lifted the hem of her shirt to see the soulmark that covered her hip and travelled further below her pants. Warm orange waves danced up from her waistband, the edges fading into the darkness of her skin to make them appear soft, unlike the hard stripes of her other mark. It was fitting, with their wild nature being what they shared, that their mark on each other would look like fire. She didn’t realise that one finger was resting on the tip of the mark, nor did she notice Mick pulling at the waistband of his pants to get a look at his own. She did notice when he let his thumb just brush the vibrant orange, because she could feel his hesitation, his fear and confusion. It was gone almost in the same moment it was there, but it was enough for her to remember that she wasn't the only one reeling over this.

 

“I don't think I've ever heard of anyone having more than two soulmates before,” she began, more for something to say than anything else. “You must be the luckiest person in the world.”

 

“Don’t feel that lucky, but I am starting to wonder if  _ I’m _ conscious right now,” Mick muttered, his brow wrinkling as he watched her. “Gotta say, I thought we had a pretty classic V going on there. Didn't think this,” he gestured vaguely between them, “was even a possibility.”

 

“Neither did I,” Amaya answered honestly. “Or, at least I didn't. Not until recently.”

 

Mick’s eyebrows jerked up at that, clearly curious about her change of heart.

 

“I think I finally understand why you’re so important to Ray, even beyond being soulmates. You’re more complex than you pretend to be, Mick.” She paused, biting her lip as she studied him. “And now I see that I’m more like you than I wanted to admit.”

 

“Really?” Mick drawled, his head tilted to the side as he studied her back. It was a strange and heady feeling to be the sole focus of a man who tended to barely acknowledge the world around him. “Guess you really did have fun being the bad guy, huh?”

 

“I saw the appeal,” Amaya admitted, steadfastly ignoring the heat in her cheeks, which only worsened at the sight of his delighted smirk.

 

“Happy to help. And I know Haircut’s always up for a little roleplay.” His eyes lit up as a thought occurred to him. “Looks like I won’t even have to angle too hard for a threesome.”

 

Amaya made a show of crossing her arms and cocking one eyebrow at him in mock judgement.

 

“Is sex really the first thing you think about every time you bond?” She’d heard both Ray and Nate’s anecdotes regarding their initial bondings. Mick just shrugged.

 

“I know what I bring to the table,” he stated carelessly. Amaya frowned and stepped back into his space, surprising him when she placed a gentle hand on the side of his face.

 

“You have so much more to offer than that,” she told him firmly. He didn’t answer, but from the look in his eyes she knew he didn’t believe her. “Nate and Ray think so too.”

 

“Soulmates don’t really got much choice.”

 

“Well, I’m your soulmate and I thought that even before we bonded, so you’re argument is moot,” she countered. Mick stared at her, clearly at a loss as to how to respond. He was saved from having to by the sudden arrival of Ray and Nate.

 

“Are you guys okay?” Ray puffed. “Gideon said you were but for a minute there, I felt, well, you felt, kind of, um, weird?” Ray’s worried gaze flicked back and forth between them, matched by Nate’s curious gaze behind him.

 

“We’re fine, Haircut,” Mick grunted, putting him out of his misery.

 

“More than fine,” Amaya added, lifting the hem of her shirt so that they could both see the new mark.

 

“Wait, is that that…? Ohmygod, you two, did you guys bond just now?” Ray almost squealed in excitement. Amaya nodded, giddy excitement blossoming within her as a mirror to Ray’s.

 

“Looks like I got three soulmates,” Mick confirmed nonchalantly, barely managing to hide the happy curve to his lips. “Guess that makes me special. Who knew?”

 

“Yeah,” Nate muttered quietly from his spot in the doorway, unheard as Ray swept his soulmates into a big hug. “Who knew?”


	7. When Nate Found Ray

Nate liked to consider himself a pretty chill guy. He wasn’t quick to anger, he tried not to judge, he tried not to let things get to him. And yet, when he learned that Amaya had bonded to Mick, forming a circle between her, him and Ray, Nate couldn’t help but feel a little lost. He felt alone, out on the edge watching the person he was supposed to be with find happiness with someone else. He knew that wasn’t fair of him. No one could control who their soulmate, or soulmates, were. It just, well, sucked, being on the outside of that circle when all he wanted to be was in the centre of it. That was another feeling that he didn’t particularly enjoy examining. When you met your soulmate, you weren’t meant to want more. They were supposed to become your world, your anchor, and yet Nate found himself thinking wistfully of how it must feel to lay in bed surrounded by the three of them, a jumble of hot hands and cold feet. He wasn’t surprised that he was attracted to Ray and Amaya; he was still human. It was the fact that he wanted to be another part of their circle, and everything that that entailed, that scared him. What was wrong with him, that his soulmate wasn’t enough?

 

Nate threw himself into his research, looking both for answers about the strange artifacts the speedster hunted, and for a distraction from the ugly feelings of jealousy and longing that he just couldn’t shake. He didn’t think it was obvious that he was avoiding them. He doubted Mick even noticed his sudden scarcity, no doubt wrapped up in his newest soulmate. So Nate let himself get lost in the pages of history and tried not to think about what was likely happening somewhere on board. He was somewhat surprised that, when he was finally interrupted, it was Ray and Amaya who sought him out, demanding to know why he was still up so late. Nate plastered on a bland expression and gave his excuses, trying not to focus too hard on the golden stripes on Ray’s bare arms. The marks served only to remind Nate that no matter how much he wished it, they were a part of something that he was not. It was almost a relief when Amaya realised that the two artifacts were in fact a single amulet, and Nate gladly took the lead and ran with it, going ahead and waking the team. Having the others around would help him forget about the hole that seemed to have sunken into his chest.

 

Of course, their midnight team meeting meant that Nate couldn’t avoid being cornered by Mick once it was over. Nate didn’t miss the significant look that Ray and Amaya shared before they followed the rest of the team out of the room. Nate made a show of shuffling papers together, but Mick just waited with his arms crossed, the picture of stubborn patience.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

 

Nate tried not to visibly cringe at the gruff accusation. He finally looked up, aiming for innocent and feeling like he was fooling absolutely nobody.

 

“I’m not avoiding you,” he lied. “I’m just giving you space, that’s all.”

 

“Space?” Mick questioned skeptically.

 

“Yeah, like Ray did for us when we bonded.”

 

Mick’s frown deepened. “That was different,” he argued. “He was spending time with Honey.” Honey, that was a good name for her, matching her sweetness and warmth. It was also the first time Mick had referred to Amaya by nickname, and while he wasn’t surprised, it still made Nate’s stomach twist at the reminder that things had changed. 

 

“Exactly,” Nate replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound as brittle as he felt. “And now you are too.” He brandished his papers. “It’s okay, I got a lot of work to do anyway.”

 

“So this  _ is _ about Honey?” Mick pressed, clearly having his suspicions validated.

 

“I don't have a problem with Amaya,” Nate lied, “I’m just trying to be a good soulsibling.” He stepped up to Mick and pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm lips. Mick pressed back and it was honestly incredible how easily Mick could make him forget everything else with just a touch. Nate spread a smile his face as he forced himself to pull away. “Don’t worry about me.”

 

Mick pursed his lips, but apparently chose not to pursue the subject further.

 

“Fine. But you’re coming to bed.” It was not a request, and Nate could find no reason to refuse, not when Mick looked concerned the way he did now. It made him feel strangely powerful, to be able to bring out emotions in his stoic and taciturn soulmate. 

 

“Will there be room for me?” Nate’s traitorous lips asked without permission.

 

“Just us, Pretty,” Mick told him gently. He let Nate lean heavily onto him as Nate’s exhaustion very suddenly caught up to him. He knew he was supposed to be relieved that Mick was making time for him, and he hated how his mixed up feelings made that only half true. Nate let himself be led back to his room and promised himself that he’d try and deal with his conflicted feelings in the morning.

 

But the morning brought a mission, an amnesiatic Rip Hunter and a strange sense of something missing that he couldn’t put his finger on. That sense of loss niggled at him, and even when he tried his usual avoidance tactic of diving into research, something still felt off. In fact, everything felt off. The words on the page stopped making sense, languages that he knew he could translate in his sleep were suddenly gibberish. The only thing that quelled the rising tide of panic was Ray’s admittance that the same thing seemed to be happening to him. It was a comfort to know he wasn’t going through this alone, and that sense of connection broke through some of the isolation he’d been feeling. He felt guilty for taking comfort in this, but the truth was that nothing felt truly impossible when he had his best friend by his side. And through this journey, that was what Ray had become to him. They had gravitated towards each other from the beginning, even before they’d discovered that they were soulsiblings. No one shared his enthusiasm or passion the way that Ray did. If Nate had to have guessed who on the ship would turn out to be his soulmate, it would have been Ray. Not that Nate didn't appreciate Mick; to his surprise, Mick had turned out to be a far more supportive and indulgent soulmate than he’d anticipated, even if he did try to be subtle about it. But Ray and Nate had fallen into a unique groove since day one, understanding each other on a level that Nate had never experianced before.

 

Nate and Ray stuck close to each other as more and more of their memories began to slip away, and their sense of identity with it. Amaya stood with them, her hand firmly gripping Ray’s in support. Mick stood at Nate's shoulder, his warm, solid presence a welcome balm to the fear and anxiety that grew as Nate's memories blurred. The blurring slowed when Amaya's impassioned and inspiring speech seemed to get through to George Lucas. For a moment, it seemed like they’d won. Which was of course when the Legion of Doom showed their faces, ambushing them in the hallway on the way back to George Lucas’s dorm-room. The element of surprise, combined with the tight quarters of the hallway, gave Merlyn and Darhk the advantage they needed to incapacitate the four of them. They led them all at gunpoint to the relative privacy of George’s room, and it was only there that the true gravity of the situation set in.

 

“Mick, where’s your gun?” Ray whispered as they were shoved into the room.

 

“On the ship,” Mick muttered back, almost sheepishly.

 

“What good is it doing there?” Nate hissed, a little snappish due to his frazzled nerves.

 

“Didn’t think I’d need it just to scare the balls back into Four-Eyes,” Mick growled, scowling at the men making demands behind their guns. “Why don’t you steel-up and take them?”

 

Nate tensed, summoning that feeling of being unbreakable that brought out his steel skin. Nothing happened. Next to him, Ray surreptitiously slipped a hand into his pocket, only to freeze.

 

“It’s not here,” Ray whispered in horror, “my suit’s not here!”

 

“I can’t steel up,” Nate admitted around the knot of fear in his throat. He’d let himself get used to feeling strong, let himself forget what it meant to be breakable, fragile. And now he found himself viscerally reminded of it, when he needed to protect not just himself but people that he loved. A deep terror that he thought he would never feel again gripped him.

 

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Merlyn snapped, clearly annoyed by their whispering. “Put ‘em up!”

 

Nate and Ray muttered unintelligible excuses while Mick just raised his hands with a long-suffering sigh. The limited space of the room meant that Nate had to side-step to avoid getting elbowed, and thus when he raised his own hands, the back of his forearm just touched the left side of Ray’s chest. The situation was so charged that Nate could swear that he could feel the thudding of Ray’s heart where it lay just behind his arm, despite the leather and denim separating their skin. His skin suddenly felt too tight, and for a moment he thought he had his steel make, but then the feeling released and Nate felt more free than he could ever remember being. Heat radiated through him from where his arm lay against Ray, waves of it thrumming with the pulse that matched Nate’s own. Nate’s breathing stuttered as he finally realised what was happening. To his right, Ray gasped, leaning ever so slightly forward into the contact, and to his left, Mick inhaled sharply. Out of the cuff of Nate's sleeve, tendrils of jade green pigment blossomed on his skin like seeking, searching vines. Without conscious thought, Nate’s eyes slid up from the new mark to meet Ray’s deep brown orbs, seeing everything that he was feeling reflected in those eyes.

 

“Seriously?” Darhk’s scoff broke through the daze the bonding had pulled them into. “I’m holding you at gunpoint, I would think that’d be enough to hold your attention. Don’t make me get creative.”

 

“Wait a second,” Merlyn interrupted, tilting his head, the angle at which he stood allowing him to catch sight of the colour blooming on Nate’s bare hand. “Did...did you two seriously just bond?”

 

“Yeah, and the whole ‘being held hostage thing’ is kind of ruining the moment,” Nate snapped, feeling legitimately resentful towards the two villains. At least this time he hadn’t been shot. Yet.

 

“Congratulations,” Merlyn drawled insincerely, “I’ll do you the favour of making sure you die together. Now move it! We have a Spear to find, and we don’t have all night.” 

 

After that, being tossed into a trash compactor, finding a piece of the Spear of Destiny and getting his powers back felt almost anticlimactic. He spent the fight feeling hyper-aware of Ray, the new bond still buzzing just below the surface every time he was near. Add to that the lifting of the weight of unhappiness and exclusion that he’d been carrying, and Nate was positive gleeful in their fight with the Legion of Doom. Even having to run and losing Rip wasn’t enough to dampen his mood. And he wasn’t the only one; Ray was practically bouncing on his toes when the team regrouped on the ship to debrief. Their eyes met and neither could suppress their happy grins.

 

“Dude!”

 

“Can you believe it?”

 

“This is so awesome!”

 

“Totally meant to be.”

 

“Really, we should’ve seen this coming.”

 

“Can someone please tell me what the hell the nerd twins are so excited about?” Jax interrupted, side-eyeing their jubilant exchange.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amaya asked from her spot next to Mick, the pair of them watching Nate and Ray with matching expressions of fond exasperation.

 

“Considering we just lost Rip and got our asses kicked by the speedster, yet these two look like Christmas came early, not really,” Sara answered, clearly annoyed.

 

Nate turned to face the group and Ray slung an arm around his shoulders, to his joy. Nate showed them the back of his hand, where vivid green tendrils lay like a map.

 

“The pair of you bonded?” Stein exclaimed. Nate and Ray both nodded enthusiastically.

 

“What the-you four are unreal!” Jax exclaimed. “Most people wait their entire lives and are lucky to meet  _ one  _ soulmate. And you guys get three?”

 

“Well, technically me and Amaya only have two,” Nate corrected him, but Sara scoffed.

 

“For now,” she said pointedly. 

 

Nate frowned slightly, his gaze flicking over to meet Amaya’s for a second. It hadn’t even occurred to him that that might be a possibility. He didn’t get much chance to think on it, however, as he suddenly found himself distracted by Ray’s warm hand enveloping his.

 

“We also kind of bonded while being held hostage, so any chance the debrief can wait until morning, Captain?” Ray asked hopefully. Sara sighed, but dutifully waved her hand in dismisal.

 

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like we have any leads right now anyway. We should all get some rest.”

 

“Thanks Sara!” Ray called as he practically dragged Nate out of the room.

 

“Woah, woah, slow down there Big Guy,” Nate chided him jokingly as they reached the crew’s quarters. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I know,” Ray responded, turning to face him. “We just haven’t really gotten a chance to be alone since it happened, so I figured I’d jump on the opportunity.”

 

“Wanted me all to yourself, huh?” Nate teased with a smirk. It felt good to say things like that and really mean them.

 

“‘Course,” Ray admitted easily, “gotta take advantage of the honeymoon stage while it lasts. Because, let’s be honest, this is the only time we’ll really get to be just the two of us.” 

 

Ray had a point. Bound as they were to two others, sharing time between soulmates was likely to get complicated in the near future. So, like Ray, Nate chose to focus on the present.

 

“Honeymoon stage, huh?” he said suggestively.

 

“That is, of course, if you’re inclined towards a romantic bond,” Ray added, looking a little nervous. “I mean, we’re such good friends, even before bonding, so if you wanted a more platonic bond, I’d understand.”

 

Nate frowned, following Ray’s logic. “Do  _ you  _ want a platonic bond? Because that’d be, that’d be cool, I just sorta assumed with the whole ‘dragging me off to be alone’ thing, that romantic was where we were already headed.”

 

“Oh! No, yes, romantic!” Ray babbled, before composing himself. “I mean, yes, I would like to have a romantic bond, as long as that’s what you want. I just didn’t want to assume, or take liberties.”

 

“You sure there’s not even a few liberties you wanna take?” Nate couldn’t resist, wagging his eyebrows at his own double-entendre.

 

“I can think of a few,” Ray admitted in a low voice that sent a shiver down Nate’s spine. He backed Nate up until his back hit the wall, the space between them suddenly crackling with charged energy.

 

“Well, I happen to like it when certain people take liberties,” Nate informed him, biting his lip in anticipation. 

 

“Oh, I know. Mick has been very complimentary.”

 

“Yeah, same for you. For someone who isn’t big on sharing, he’s weirdly comfortable discussing bedroom stuff.” 

 

“Now we’ll be able to compare notes.”

 

“That would be funny if I didn’t think you were completely serious. And for the record, you’re not allowed to actually stop and take notes.”

 

“Guess you’ll just have to hold my attention.”

 

Nate knew a challenge when he heard it. He closed the distance between them without warning, but Ray didn’t seem at all surprised by the searing kiss. Nate found himself solidly pressed between the wall and the lean line of Ray’s body, hot hands curling firmly around his hips. Nate let his fingers thread through thick, dark locks and gripped, pulling Ray impossibly closer.

 

“Come on! Asking for privacy implies you’re going somewhere  _ private! _ Your room is literally right there!”

 

Nate and Ray broke apart a little sheepishly at the sound of Jax’s annoyed voice. They slipped into the aforementioned room with hasty apologies. They shut the door on the sound of his continued muttered grumblings and turned back to each other, ready and eager to see where this new bond took them.


	8. When Amaya Found Nate

Waking up next to Mick was very different compared to waking up next to Ray. Where Ray lost his ever-present aura of energy, Mick’s rough edges softened. Unless startled awake, he came to consciousness slowly, almost lazily, often burrowing closer to the nearest heat source. In the short time since discovering their bond, Amaya had learned that Mick was at his most affectionate when half asleep. Such as now, when she woke to the feel of a face nuzzling the back of her neck, and low snuffles as her curls tickled his nose. She smiled to herself, appreciating that she got to see the teddy bear that lay beneath his grizzly exterior. Last night had been the first night that they had spent together without Ray, and she had found that they fit together far better than she had feared.

 

She twisted in his arms to snuggle deeper into his warm embrace. Amaya felt sleepy contentment through their bond as their thighs touched, an almost primal sense of safety and happiness echoing from the both of them. She opened her eyes to the crimson splash of Nate’s mark on Mick chest, the red eerily reminiscent of the blood that had spilled as it formed. She let her fingers rise to trace the scarred ridges that the red flecks danced across, and remembered how that night had taught her so much of not just who Mick was, but the characters of Nate and Ray as well. Nate had saved more than just his teammate when he had taken that bullet, and ice clawed at Amaya’s stomach when she contemplated what might have happened if he hadn’t.

 

“Why’re you scared?” Mick murmured sleepily into her hair, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her.

 

Amaya let her palm fall flat against his mark, over his heart where she could feel the comforting pulse beneath the skin.

 

“Nothing important,” she assured him. “Just letting my mind wander through ‘could-have-beens’ that won’t come to pass now.” She made a conscious effort to relax, and felt him relax a little in response.

 

“Thought you were pulling a ‘Haircut’ on me,” Mick muttered nonsensically.

 

“Pulling a what?”

 

“Haircut,” Mick repeated, clearing his throat and stretching a little as he came to full awareness. “And the dreams that he pretends he’s not having.”

 

“You’ve noticed too?”

 

“Yeah, just can’t figure out if they’re good or bad or not.”

 

Amaya bit her lip, thinking. “The last time I asked about it, he said it was something to do with the Dominator’s illusion. But I thought that was meant to be a perfect world that they wouldn’t want to leave. Why would that be giving him nightmares?”

 

“Blondie did say it got kinda nightmarish towards the end,” Mick pointed out, with a shrug that jostled them both.

 

“I don’t think that’s it,” Amaya said doubtfully. “He seems almost...wistful when he wakes up.”

 

“Maybe it was too perfect. Maybe he wants to go back,” Mick suggested, the slightest trace of bitterness in his tone. Amaya leaned back specifically so she could give him an unimpressed look.

 

“You and I both know that there is only one place that Ray wants to be,” she stated firmly, “and that is here, with the people he loves.”

 

Mick only grunted his agreement, but she could feel the relief her reassurance had brought him. Amaya let her fingers continue to run over the red mark, her mind returning once more to the man it represented.

 

“What did it feel like?” she found herself asking, “when they bonded.”

 

There was a long pause as Mick collected his thoughts, still somewhat half asleep.

 

“Weird,” he grunted finally. “Felt like they were touching my marks, but instead of just feeling good, it felt like...something was going through me.”

 

“Like you were a conduit for what was happening to them?” Amaya guessed.

 

“Ugh...sure,” Mick accepted dubiously.

 

Amaya hummed thoughtfully, her fingers still tracing the mark on Mick’s chest. She felt like they were on the precipice of something, something big and important that they had been unconsciously building towards that kept her nerves on edge and sat like a weight on her chest. She felt Mick shift, the mark she had been unable to look away from moving back as Mick looked down at her.

 

“Hey,” he softly called for her attention, waiting until her eyes met his. “What’s up?” His tone was firm yet open, and Amaya found herself answering without hesitation.

 

“Yesterday, Sara insinuated that Nate and I are probably destined to bond.”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“So...do you think we will?”

 

Mick frowned down at her, as though he suspected that this might be a trick question. “You will or you won’t. What does it matter?”

 

Amaya sighed and tried to articulate her tangled feelings, shifting to lie on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

 

“It’s one thing to know I have a soulmate out there, a stranger that will some day be the most important person in my life. It’s another thing entirely to think I know who the missing piece of my soul is, and have to wait and hope that I’m right, and that one day we’ll bond.” She looked away from the uniform grey of the ceiling to meet the dark, stormy grey of his eyes. “Because what if we’re wrong, and Nate and I aren’t meant for each other? What if we spend years waiting for something that won’t happen? That’s not fair to any of us. You and Ray deserve every part of us, but now there is always going to be a part of me that wonders if I’m meant to hold back a piece for him too.”

 

“Or you could bond tomorrow and have worried over nothing.”

 

“I don’t want to live a life of ‘what-if’s, Mick. I can’t live my life in waiting.”

 

“So don’t.” Mick’s gruff statement made it sound so simple. “If you bond, you bond, if you don’t, you don’t. But soulmates or not, what you choose to be to each other is up to you. And as long as you’re not tryin’ to kill each other, Haircut and I’ll back you.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Amaya admitted, her brow furrowing.

 

“I mean that you’re gonna be a part of each other’s lives anyway, so you might as well quit worrying and make the most of it. As long as me and Haircut still have you two, we ain’t gonna care if you’re into each other too.”

 

“Really?” Amaya asked, surprised. “You would be okay with that?”

 

“Honey, if there is anyone I’m not gonna care about you gettin’ with, it’s my other soulmate,” he pointed out dryly. “Assuming that’s what you wanted, anyway. I’d recommend it, though; he’s very eager to please, you’d love it.”

 

Amaya ignored the heat that bloomed in her cheeks at the suggestion. Even if it was a rather tantalising thought.

 

“Is that a...common arrangement, in your era?” she asked.

 

“No idea, but bonds like ours ain’t exactly common either.”

 

“No, I suppose you’re right, we are somewhat unique,” she mused. “So then, whatever feels like the right path to take is the one I should follow?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

Amaya let her conversation with Mick stew through her thoughts as they went about the day, keeping her from dwelling too closely on her concerns when she worked with Nate. It was somewhat freeing to realise that this relationship had become a choice. She wanted to get closer to him, to see the man that Mick and Ray saw. She chose to see if there could be something between them, whether that was as soulsiblings joined by the ones they loved, or as something more. She felt giddy, almost like an inexperienced young woman again, finding the courage to flirt with a handsome man. She was reminded of how her courtship with Rex had felt, and that one didn’t have to find a soulmate to find love. Amaya had no way of knowing what Nate thought of their situation, or even if he wanted the same thing. But there was a spark of something between them now, or perhaps it had always been there, and Amaya had been too preoccupied to notice. Either way, she chose now to pursue it, where ever it may lead. In doing so, she found that there was something to be said about choosing one’s own destiny.

 

The icy December waters of the Delaware did a grand job of reminding her of all the risks that came with it.

 

Nate shivered violently in her arms as she led him towards the fire light, spouting nonsense as hypothermia set in. Despite the severity of the situation, Amaya couldn't help but find is ramblings endearing. In a stroke of luck, the small fire appeared to belong to their attacker’s camp, and Amaya quickly got to work taking advantage of the now vacant lodgings. The fire had kept the tent relatively warm,and it was thick with the floor covered in various furs.

 

She laid her shivering burden in the furs and quickly began to strip him of his freezing wet clothes, as well as her own. Her concern was the only thing keeping her from smiling at his ridiculous comment about this hadn't been his plan. A small, quiet part of her agreed that this hadn't been how she’d envisioned it either.

 

The moment their bare skin touched, Nate found the strength to bring his arms up around her, burrowing closer as he muttered in awe at how warm she was. Amaya sighed in relief that he didn't feel as cold as she feared, and got them both firmly nestled under the blankets of furs. Idly, she lamented the loss of their comms, which had fallen victim to the river’s icy waters. There was no way to warn anyone that she and Nate were currently out of commission. She hoped Mick, Ray and Sara were okay, but knowing that their fate was in the hands of Jax and Stein alleviated her worries somewhat. And if the warmth emanating from Nate was any indication, he was recovering quickly enough that they could hopefully rejoin the fray soon.

 

Amaya stiffened as the realisation hit her that she didn't so much feel warm, as warmth radiated through her body from the places he touched. She gasped as she felt her soul reach out and twine with another for the third time. The arms she had around Nate tightened as the sense of belonging overwhelmed her, and he hummed happily, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. The final piece of their puzzle fell into place, and Amaya could feel that it was different this time. Instead of feeling too big for her own body, everything felt too loose, as though the pieces of her only barely touched.

 

In a British officer's tent and in the cramped vents of the Waverider, two hearts skipped a beat, keeping time with the pulsing beat of the other pieces of them finding their rhythm. A young rat and founding father were the only witnesses as both men stumbled and pressed a hand over their heart in wonder. Washington frowned in concern at his stoic companion, enquiring as to what ailed him but recieving only a grunt in response. The rat not yet known as Axl just squeaked, ignorant of the magnitude of the moment.

 

Later, once Nate had finally stopped shivering and some colour had returned to his face, Amaya slipped out of his arms, confident that the worst had passed. She left him to rest, and went about examining her skin in search of the new mark that she knew it now bore. It was not a long search. The dark purple, like an iris in bloom, did not stand out well on her warm brown skin, but it was still obvious, a fan of colour beginning just below her belly button and opening up and out until the tips just brushed the bottom of her ribs. She knew without looking that Nate must bear a matching one over his own navel.

 

She sat there looking at it, marveling at this strange situation fate had deemed right for her. By rights, she should never have met any of her soulmates, unless it had been as an old woman. Or perhaps she would have met them as they were in a past life, different people yet the same soul at their core. She had wondered, previously, if there might be some greater consequences to their bonding, that perhaps their souls had come together out of order thanks to the impossibilities of time travel. But sitting here now, feeling the warmth of their bond nestled firmly beneath her skin, she couldn’t imagine that there could be anything wrong with this profound bond that they shared.


	9. When They Found Each Other

Every night, Ray returned to the sweetest of nightmares. There is a certain cruelty in being given exactly what you want only to have it ripped from your grasp again and again. Even in the alien simulator, a part of Ray had been tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. In his experience, he didn’t get to be this happy. Not for long. Some part of Ray was certain that he would not be allowed to keep them.

 

He wouldn’t get to keep strong, sweet Amaya, nor smart, cheerful Nate, nor stoic, honest Mick. And they wouldn’t get to keep each other. That was why he clung to his bittersweet dreams. Because there, in a world that was half memories of the simulation, half hopeful fantasy, he had them, and they had each other. Ray didn’t just get to be loved and cherished, he got to see his loved ones cherishing each other. He would be the first to admit that this was a strange thing to dwell on. But he couldn’t help but feel that everything would work out so much better if the four of them were a single, tight-knit unit instead of the loose chain of connections that they were. It was a desire he hadn’t even been truly aware of until the Dominators showed it to him, giving him a taste of bliss before it all came crashing down.

 

The dreams came with guilt as well. Even more so after he had bonded with Nate. In a way, he had been granted his wish; they were all his soulmates, there for him to love and be loved in return. But still, that quiet part of him wanted more, not for him, but for them. He couldn’t articulate why it mattered so much to him that they love each other as much as he loved them. He could only wallow in the bittersweet perfection of his dreams and the aching guilt that came when he woke with at least one of them absent from his bed.

 

Today, Ray woke slowly, the gentle breaths of his soulmates the only sound in his room. The blankets had somehow wound up tangled around their legs, but it didn’t matter because Ray could feel Mick’s familiar weight half sprawled over him like a human blanket. His left side was just as warm as the right, with the smooth skin of Amaya’s back pressed against the curve of his torso. The large, warm hand resting low on his stomach must belong to Nate, probably curled around Amaya on her other side, his arm slung over the both of them. Ray sighed, basking in their warmth for as long as he could before the disappointment and guilt set in.

 

Only, it didn’t. Instead, as Ray’s ever-active mind strode briskly towards full consciousness, he did not feel the wistful avarice his dreams once left him with. The warmth and contentment he felt remained, strengthening and solidifying as his mind registered the contact of all his soulmates, the indescribable sense of connection that always came from their touch, and the unshakeable sense of stability and completeness that he had unconsciously chased in his dreams.

 

Ray remembered now, not a dream, but a new reality that felt like one. He remembered almost becoming rat food when he’d been distracted by the distant sense of two other pieces of his soul finding each other. He had felt it once before, the almost electrifying sense of being a part of another’s bond, but it was different this time. Even after the initial sensation passed, it still felt unfinished somehow, like a live wire sparking in the open air, waiting to complete it’s circuit. That sense of anticipation persisted, and by the time the others returned to the ship, his nerves were practically dancing with it. Never before had he felt so on edge, unable to even stand still or focus on a single thing, as though a part of him was disconnected from his physical body. Gideon didn’t even have time to tell him when the others returned, he was already striding through the ship, that electric sense instinctively drawing him towards the final component of his circuit. He turned the corner and saw them, walking in his direction with just as much purpose, pushed by the same force.

 

Ray had reached out and they pulled him in, the four of them crowding together in a mess of an embrace as the loose threads of their souls pulled tight. The Dominators’ illusion paled in comparison to the reality of a complete bond between four souls. Their connection fizzed beneath his skin, their circuit finally complete. Ray felt himself shake with the force of it, that same sense of bonding but so much more intense.They were holding him and he was holding them and the three marks on his body flared with heat at every beat of their hearts. Ray wasn’t aware that he had closed his eyes until he opened them, finding the four of them curled around each other on the floor in a tangle of limbs, unable to suppress the euphoric grins on their faces as their bond finally, finally cemented.

 

That memory, so much more than any dream could hope to be, stretched his lips into a grin once more. The four of them, bound together as one, was his new reality.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

Ray opened his eyes at Mick’s mildly panicked grunt. He saw Mick frowning down at him with the familiar angry and confused expression that was in fact his version of concern. On his other side, Amaya stirred awake, twisting to look at them. Behind her, Nate snuffled and stretched as he moved towards consciousness. Ray just smiled at them, finally aware of the warm tears trailing down his face. He raised one hand to cup the back of Mick’s neck and threaded the fingers of his other hand in Amaya’s hair, soothing both of their concerned faces with the comforting touch.

 

“Same reason I cried most of yesterday,” he stated baldy, unashamed of his emotions, “because I’m so, so happy.”

 

“So, no more bad dreams?” Nate slurred, blinking his ernest eyes blearily at Ray.

 

“Bad…?” Ray frowned. “Oh. Those dreams. They were never bad. They were just...this.” 

 

“You dreamed about sleeping?” Mick snorted incredulously.

 

“No,” Ray corrected, rolling his eyes, “it was this.” He gestured at them, at the bed with it’s tangled blankets, at the clothes piled together on the floor, at the various possessions his soulmates had left scattered around the room. “Us. Together and bonded and happy and I just...I didn’t think we’d ever get to have this. And I guess I felt guilty for wanting it anyway.” It felt good to finally admit to the inexplicable avarice that had haunted him now that he was free of it.

 

Nate, Amaya and Mick all shared a look. 

 

“It was stupid, I know,” Ray muttered, his face heating up.

 

“No more so than me worrying about whether or not I’d bond with Nathaniel,” Amaya admitted with a shrug.

 

“Or me being totally jealous of you guys before I’d bonded with any of you,” Nate added, before frowning. “Wait, what do you mean you worried about bonding with me?”

 

Amaya gave him a reassuring smile. “Just that we might not. I would have hated for our relationship to be tainted by a hope that never came to be.”

 

Nate’s frown smoothed away, and he took Amaya’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

 

“I get it. I would have hated that too.”

 

“You all worry too much,” Mick commented. He let his hand fall to rest on the plane of Ray’s stomach, a scarred thumb brushing idly over the emerald vines at the bottom of Nate’s mark.

 

“I’m gonna save us all the argument and not bother pointing out the hypocrisy of that statement,” Ray responded archly. 

 

“Smart.” 

 

The other three snorted with mirth at Mick’s glib agreement. Even Mick had a small curve to the corners of his mouth, swept up in the infectious bubble of happiness that they lay in. They basked in it, enjoying this safe haven that they built for each other before their mission inevitably drew them away. This was the first morning that all of them had woken up together, with no fear that they might be intruding on a moment meant for another link in their chain. This was the way it was meant to be, messy hair and morning breath, too many bodies in too small a bed, pressed skin to skin, the vibrant patchwork of their marks across their skin reminding them that this was where they belonged. Ray knew the familiar feel of the blue beneath his fingers, had pressed kisses to the dramatic red splash across Mick’s chest. Mick still idly traced the green lines Nate had left over Ray’s heart, a mirror to the way Amaya ran her thumb over the very same vines on the back of Nate’s hand. His left hand lay over the fan of purple on her stomach, their newest mark already becoming a familiar sight. The yellow stripes on Amaya’s arm’s seemed to glow against the rich darkness of her skin, much like the blazing orange on her hip the almost shimmered under the soft light.

 

Out of nowhere, Mick began to chuckle to himself.

 

“What?” Nate asked for all of them. Mick smirked at them and began to point to each mark as he went down the list.

 

“Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple. We’re a fucking rainbow.”

 

It wasn’t that funny, but none of them could help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Their situation, a four-way bond, was basically unheard of. No one could have anticipated that such a combination could be possible, and yet here they were. Ray couldn’t help but look at their marks and see the scars underneath, knowing just how much coming together had changed them, had made them stronger as people and as a unit. Ray knew that he wasn’t the same person who had first stepped the Waverider, knew that the same held true for his soulmates. Each of them had been hurt in a different way and learned how to heal with the help of those who covered their scars with vivid and undeniable evidence of their love and support. No one had seen this coming, but Ray would not change this fate for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Hope you all enjoyed my take on their reactions to being soulmates.


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